Slice Bryce
by Castor Fu
Summary: I suppose that at it's heart, it is a parody. I find it funny, but I'm a weirdo. If you read it and are confused, don't worry. I am too.
1. Slice Bryce

**Slice Bryce.**

"Dying is a mountain, best eaten without shame."

--Ancient Borneo Proverb.

"If I were to find a way to create with this bullet, a time portal in which you can run to the moon or something, would you pay money for it?"

"...I'm not sure I follow..."

"No, you're wrong. This is me at my most masochistic."

"No one ever doubted that, sir."

"Good." A gunshot rang throughout the chapel.

I used to have a job. A life. A family, of sorts. I killed people. Some people make hats, some baskets, some dance, some swim, some even write, but I... I used to have a job. I killed people for a living. There's no shame in it, never was, just like some people need hats or baskets, some people need to die; thusly, I was providing a valuable commodity to the people of the world. I was employed by a man named Bryce; a fisherman by trade, he was able to spot a certificate of authenticity on some sort of odd planetary... Uh... Wait... No, Fisherman by trade, superhero by night... Or... Mild mannered reporter for the Daily Bugle? Wait... No, Bryce was NOT a fisherman by trade, he was a helicopter pilot by trade. But he was more than that. He was our leader, and, in some ways, our father.

He called us the Secret Assassination/Reconnaissance Squad, or "SARS" for short. We worked for money, trying and trying to make ends meet, but we didn't really require housing, no matter how much we actually required housing. Instead of housing, he provided us with lodging, but we were encouraged to not make lives elsewhere, outside of SARS or Bryce. One of our members was a woman named "Sk00t'r." I'm not sure if Sk00t'r was her real name, because her parents, while being perfectly humorous people, I'm sure, wouldn't necessarily name their daughter Sk00t'r, what with the two zeroes and the apostrophe and all. It might have been a code name.

Anyway, Sk00t'r got married and started a family, and had a little daughter named Deputy Governor Danforth Sk00t'r II. Now, I'm not sure if her real name was Deputy Governor Danforth, or if her last name is Sk00t'r, all I know is that she was black. Anyway, the point of that story is, I soon got pregnant with Bryce's child. This would complicate my ability to kill correctly, and I might make a mistake, like being pregnant or something, and since I WAS in fact pregnant, there was no guarantee that I would ever be able to work for Bryce the same way again. So I decided to name my daughter Revered Hale of Beverly once she was born, and I ran.

I met a nice man, whose name I cannot seem to recall, and within a week, we were to be married. I was in the chapel, with all the guests, and the wedding was about to commence when ALL of a SUDDEN, the entire SARS gang burst through the chapel. I was afraid, and angry, as you probably may have guessed, because even though I SPECIFICALLY wrote "RSVP" on their invitations, so that I could know how much fish to order for the reception, they did NOT RSVP. So there I was, in the wedding chapel with not enough fish to feed everyone. Anyway, the wedding was about to go on as planned, when all of the sudden, The SARS gang whipped out their guns and started shootin' everyone in sight, killin' 'em all execution style. It was pretty bloody. Then, they grabbed me and beat the crap outta me and left me for dead on the floor. Then Bryce came. And shot me.

And so, as surely as God made little green apples, I will Slice Bryce.


	2. Sk00t'r

**Sk00t'r.**

Now, I don't want to be labeled as a basket-maker or haberdasher for no good reason. You've seen my hard life. But that's not even the half of it. I suppose that I weaved the baskets of justice and habered the dashes of revenge, or so I would like to think. See, it's a difficult task indeed to catch a helicopter pilot. They can fly, in the air, in their helicopters. And so, naturally, a non-helicopter pilot like myself would find all sorts of things wrong with what that was supposed to be. Bryce hardly ever flew his helicopter. He couldn't even afford one, even with all the money he made fishing and reporting. No, he spent all that money on his assassins, and on his assassins assassinating his other assassins who decided that assassination is not for the life of the said assassin, or in this case, an ex-assassin.

However, Sk00t'r was an assassin, and so was I. She lived in a two story house in the suburbs of West Antigone over by the coast. She was married, or something, and had a husband, or something, and I think I already mentioned little Deputy Governor Danforth Sk00t'r II... But she tried to kill me. And under any normal circumstance, this would make me a bit angry, naturally. Well this was a normally abnormal circumstance. Well, normal in that I would be angry, but abnormal in that she tried to kill me, even though I was an assassin, or something. I still remember the day, when I was coming home from school, and I got a knife and walked to her house... Wait, no, I wasn't coming home from school. I think I was coming home from the hospital. To her home. From the hospital. With extreme justice and maximum knife.

Yes, well, it was her daughter that was coming home from school. On the bus. But I didn't care, I whistled a carefree tune as I walked to her house. But she... Was she the first one I killed? Why didn't I use my sword? I thought I killed that halfing first. If that's the case, then perhaps it was because using my sword against an unarmed opponent would be dishonorable, and I'd have to commit sepukku immediately following... But she used a gun, and THAT is more dishonorable than mine. What kind of parent keeps a gun in her children's cereal box, anyway? A concerned parent.

Anyway, I rang her doorbell and she was all

"I see you have brought Maximum Knife." And then I was all

"Yes, Sk00t'r. The Maximum Knife allowed by Arizona state law."

"Ah yes, but doesn't Arizona state law designate a shilling weekly and an extra tuppence fortnightly?"

"Of course it does. But we all know that that's hardly even enough to purchase so much as a single case of SugarPow!."

"But we also all know that a normal family of three requires at least forty-eight bottles of, that is to say, two cases of SugarPow! in order to stem the slaughter set upon their cursed heads by the German gods during the second War of the Pass." Sk00t'r was right. What could I possibly say to defend myself against such infallible logic? "So where's my tuppence?"

"I didn't bring your tuppence, Sk00t'r."

"You... Didn't bring my tuppence? How DARE you!"

"One thing you seem to have forgotten Sk00t'r." She stared at me. My eyes narrowed to slits. "We're not in Arizona." A forced silence came and was gone. Finally, Sk00t'r spoke.

"On the mantle in the living room, there is a picture of my family. Inside this picture are four tuppences that I set aside for this day. I always knew that you would come to kill me." My mind was reeling. Four tuppences? How could she have possibly amassed such wealth! Surely not with what Bryce paid her. Perhaps she had...

"You spent two months in Arizona! You traitor!"

"That's right, you magnificent devil!"

"You'll pay for what you've done, Sk00t'r."

"I'd like to see you TRY to pay me."

"No, YOU'LL be the one paying."

"I'm not giving up my tuppences."

"That was blood money! You can't keep it! It's from Arizona. You cannot wield it."

"Then it will stay locked in my picture forever." We sat at a stalemate. This issue of the tuppence seemed to have stopped our battle. Or at least delayed it.

"That money should go towards buying SugarPow!, Sk00t'r. You know it. The German gods are not going to be pleased with your warmongering."

"Warmongering?" Sk00t'r's eyes got wide, and angry. "The only war that I'LL be mongering is the war against you and your living!" With that, Sk00t'r lunged at me. I had no choice but to dive away, into the living room, toward the picture with the four tuppences. I quickly grabbed the picture and held it at knife point. Maximum knife point.

"Stand back, Sk00t'r. It's time to right the wrongs you've written."

"The wrongs I write are always right and your written 'rights' are really wrong."

"What's wrong, Sk00t'r?"

"You are." She lunged again. I stabbed the maximum knife into the picture, and tuppences came flying out. Sk00t'r scrambled to grab them before I could, but she slipped, and fell, and died. Suddenly, her daughter returned home. I looked at the confused little girl.

"Honey..." I began. Then I decided better of it and flipped her off and walked out the door, to my truck.


	3. The Halfling

**The Halfling.**

Now, it wasn't by my doing that I was forced into the fate of fates, forced to kill people and fit them with the hats of death. A perfect example of this would be the Halfling. Now, she was called the Halfling because she was half-Chinese and half-Japanese, and half-American (Oh what a species!). Now, most of us knew that the rules of grammar and the laws of the gods forbid anything from having three halves, as that's one more half than anyone else ever had, or ever would. Naturally, the gods were none too pleased with the Halfling. However, the Halfling was ridiculously rich. Rich enough to afford the extra two cases of SugarPow! that the gods demanded in order to have her life spared. She would weekly spend four tuppences, as if it wasn't anything, in order to buy her crazy SugarPow!. It was her own business.

But I needed four tuppences. I needed the four cases of SugarPow!. If I got them, the gods would let me Slice Bryce. So my goal was clear. I needed a sword, with which to kill the Halfling, because the Halfling chose swords as her medium of choice by which she would complete her duty of killing peepz. Anyway, in Japan, they're commonly known for creating katanas, which are like swords, but more slicey. I could have gotten a broadsword, but that's just silly. Who uses a broadsword these days? A concerned parent.

The Halfling had reservations at the Poison Tea Chinese Buffet, in Japan. I don't quite understand why she chose to go to a common buffet instead of a fancy tea house, or why she bothered to get reservations for said buffet, seeing as it's a family restaurant and you don't really require exca... Reservations to eat there on time. Also, I was confused as to why there was a Chinese buffet in Japan, and why they boasted their own ineptness at preparing tea. But these things aside, I went to Master Jikkyu in the Sake Bar 01 near Hokkaido. I walked in and spoke to him in his native tongue of Japanese, or as the Japanese call it... Nihongo.

"Yo." I said.

"Sup?" he replied.

"Nuffin." I answered.

"Aiight." He exploded.

"Sake?" I asked.

"Aye." He assured me.

"'Kay." I acknowledged.

"So..." He began.

"Wait." I interjected.

"Eh?" He inquired.

"I..." I searched.

"No." He said.

"But-" I started.

"Why?" He inquired.

"Bryce." I answered.

"Ah..." He contemplated.

"...So?" I asked.

"Fine." He said. He would make me a sword now. My heart soared with anticipation, but then stopped soaring, as I realized that helicopters soar. We went upstairs, into the top-secret sake-katana ultimate room, wherein he kept all of his forged swords, which were his top-secret passion or so I think. Where was I? Katana room. Ah yes, well, he had many different colored swords, or coloured, if you're British. But I didn't really want any of those, yellow swords. Instead, I would have him make me one from scratch. A supreme inefficiency to compliment my supreme revenge. Now, Master Jikkyu charged as much for his swords, usually, as most people would pay for two cases of SugarPow! but I was a special case.

See, Master Jikkyu understood perfectly the desire for human beings to be able to maintain honor in the face of almost certain disgrace. That, and I guess that he just disliked Bryce as much as I did. Well, maybe not as much, but he still, I guess, hated him. Or at least understood where I was coming from. Maybe he was just afraid of me. But I doubt that last one, seeing as he's the sword master, and he MAKES the freakin' swords. I guess that doesn't necessarily mean that he knows how to use them, per say, but he makes them. And he'll charge me nothing.

Master Jikkyu was immune to mind tricks, Jedi or other wise, so that last thing probably didn't affect him in any way. Instead, he assured me that this was his finest sword, and that, if I happened to meet God on my journey, this sword would cut even him. But then I saw God, dancing with a plastic bag, and I was all

"Ah! Now, the time for your justice has finally come, Prince of Peace!" He just kind of looked at me. "Prepare to meet the tender kiss of cold steel, Lion of Judah!" with that, He laughed, and turned my sword into a North Tanzanian ButterFrog. I grew impatient and threw the ButterFrog at a passing hip-hopper, who consequently turned at me, dropped his novelty-sized boom box, and pulled out his gun. Luckily, he was promptly run over by a passing cart. Then I turned back, to settle my beef with The Wonderful Counselor but, alas, He was gone. Anyway, master Jikkyu assured me that it was his finest sword. With this sword, I planned to dispense justice on the Halfling that plagues our streets! But to do that, I would have to reach the Poison Tea Chinese Buffet. However... Before I could reach the Poison Tea Chinese Buffet, I would have to wiggle my big toe. Lost? Well, it had a lot to do with a man named Bunch. He was here for lunch.


	4. Bunch

**Bunch.**

"Well I guess I don't know nuthin' about you, eh? Well, I'm from Huntsville, Texas, my name is Bunch... Heh heh... And I came here for lunch."

"Thanks for the recon, Bunch. But I honestly don't care. Talk to the proprietor of this Sandwich Bar if you want some food, because I don't need your crap." Bunch looked at me with the flaming disgust of a man on the edge.

"Sandwich Bar?! Good Lord, woman, I just came here to ask directions to the Hot Dog Station! Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll take the coward's way out." With that, Bunch jumped down a manhole.


End file.
